


Baby, We Were Young

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Implied Relationships, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-09-29 20:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10143326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Collection of short one-shots centering on Jon and Sansa as children at Winterfell, though several will include them as adults as well.1. Not Your Fault (Ned & Jon with Jon/Sansa at end)2. Hide Away with Me for Now (Sansa & Robb, Sansa & Jon)3. Hard Cider on a Summer Night (Jon & Robb, Jon & Sansa)4. In Hot Water (Jon & Sansa; Jon/Sansa)5. Worry & Care (Jon/Sansa, Jon & Sansa)6. Sansa's Hair (Jon & Sansa)





	1. Not Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> This will not be one, continuing story. Varying one-shots of them as children set in Canon 'verse. We'll see where I go with it...if anywhere!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first one is mostly centered on Jon and Ned.

Ned Stark stood up from where he had knelt in the godswood and made his plea. There was a strange whisper on the wind. _Just the rustling of the leaves_ , he told himself as he watched the leaves flutter on the limbs of the Weirwood tree. He made his way back to the keep. _Let them grow as brothers with only love between them_ , he said to himself again. His wife and son would be arriving any day now. _The wife I’ve not seen in over a year…who should’ve been Brandon’s. And the son I’ve not met. Will she find it in her heart_ _to forgive me?_

As the young lord of Winterfell entered the keep, servants and guards bowed their heads. He climbed the stairs to the small room where he’d put the boy and his nurse and knocked. He was bid to enter a moment later and walked in to find the nurse covering herself from feeding the babe.

“Milord,” she rose and curtsied, holding the child to her chest.

“I’d like a moment with him please,” he said. She walked over and carefully placed the sleeping infant in his arms. He was growing though still small in Ned’s arms. His hair was coming in more now, dark hair…like a Stark.

“I’ll be right outside, milord,” the nurse said leaving them alone.

Ned stroked the child’s soft cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry but I promised and I must do this to keep you safe.” He sat down in the chair and looked at his nephew. “It will be a hard life and none of it is your fault. But we are Starks and we are used to hard things. And you are a Stark, no matter your name, and winter is coming.”

 

* * *

 

 

He heard the footsteps approaching the Heart Tree and glanced up wondering who was disturbing him at his prayers. The boy did not see him at first. There were tears in his eyes and he was out of breath from running.

“Jon?”

“Father,” the boy answered, batting hastily at his eyes. _I am nearly eight, almost a man grown. I will not cry in front of him_.

“What’s the matter, son?” his father asked.

“Nothing,” he answered, sullenly.  _I will not cry_. 

Ned stood and walked over to the boy whose eyes were still shining from tears that had not fallen yet. Jon would never tell him unless forced and Ned wasn’t certain he wanted to know. He took his taunts and slights in silence now and brooded to himself…oh, he brooded a great deal. _Theon perhaps_. The Greyjoy ward had come to Winterfell from Pyke not so many moons ago and he seemed to enjoy lording over Jon and rubbing the boy’s status as bastard in his face.

His heart sank though and he knew who brought out Jon’s tears most often. _Catelyn_. His lady wife had forgiven her husband. She’d forgiven him in time and love had grown between them. She’d given him two daughters since then and now another son. _‘A brother for Robb at last,’_ she’d said. _He has a brother already_ , Ned had wanted to say but didn’t. _All the venom heaped on the boy instead of me. Why?_

He put his hand on Jon’s shoulder and knelt before him. “Will you not tell me, son?”

“It…it doesn’t matter, Father.” He pulled the boy close then and held him. He felt his small shoulders start to shake as the tears returned. He held him for a long time until the boy finally broke the embrace and wiped his eyes. “Better?”

“Yes, Father,” he answered. _But I didn't want to cry._

“Jon…if Lady Stark…”

“It wasn’t her,” the boy blurted out.

“Oh? Who then?”

Jon clenched his fists and looked down at the ground. He didn’t want to tell on her, even after what she’d said to him. But it was hard to keep things from Father.

“Sansa,” he whispered.

Ned scratched his head. Sansa was a sweet girl, only four and already a lady. She was courteous and… _so like her mother_. “What did she say?”

“Only that…she didn’t know what she was saying. She heard the word from Theon and…” Jon sniffed and didn’t want to start crying again. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. “She said ladies shouldn’t play with bastards.”

“I will talk to her, Jon.”

Jon shook his head and said, “It’s true anyway. There’s no point in saying anything to her…it doesn’t matter!” he shouted now. He looked up in horror at his father. He’d never spoken in front of him that way. He turned and ran away. He’d have to find another place to hide and brood today.

Ned watched the boy run off and guilt overwhelmed him once more. _I’m sorry. None of this is your fault. You’re not to blame for any of it, Jon_.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon knelt by the great Weirwood and heard her boots crunching through snow towards him. He rose and turned towards her. There were tears in her eyes just as there had been in his earlier when he’d finally listened to the truth. It was not fair. It was not right. He was Ned Stark’s son. He’d been proud to be his son even if he was just a bastard son. He’d finally gained the acceptance from her he had craved when they were younger. He’d gained much more in truth. _And how long will that last now that the truth is known?_

“Jon,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

He went to her then and embraced her. “It’ll change everything,” he sighed into her neck.

She pulled back and touched his face. “It will change some things but…I prefer not to think of this as bad news.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “I could not kiss my brother Jon like that.”

He shook his head at her, still reeling at the news that had been revealed so recently. “Sansa…I can’t…not yet. You’ve been my sister for so long.”

“Give it time then,” she said finally before letting go of his face and walking away.

Jon knelt in the snow again and tried to still the thundering in his heart from Sansa’s kiss. He would have to deal with that. _I’m angry with you, Father_ , he thought at last, looking up at the face carved in the tree. _But it’s not all your fault._


	2. Hide Away with Me for Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is playing hide and seek and needs a place to hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short drabble.

This was the best place she could think of to hide…and it wasn’t all that good. Sansa was six now and old enough to know when a hiding place was good or not. And hiding under the high table of the Great Hall was not that good, especially when there was not even a cloth covering the table for her to hide under.

“Found you!” Robb shouted.

He laughed his joyful, boisterous laugh that usually made Sansa smile. He was nine and her hero after Father. He normally wouldn’t have played with her but Jon had been missing since morning and Theon was being an arse, he’d said. _‘You shouldn’t say that word, Robb_.’ He’d only laughed when she’d told him that.

The past hour or more, they’d been playing hide and seek with Arya and she had been the first one found every time. _It’s not fair. Why is Arya a better hider? She’s only four_. When she started to sniffle, Robb ducked down under the table and sat next to her.

“Now, don’t cry, Sansa,” he said. “I’ll let you have another turn if you promise not to cry.”

She gave him a watery smile at that and darted out from under the table in her skirts and ran from the hall. She could hear his laughter ringing in her ears as she ran and he started to loudly count to a hundred.

 _A place to hide. A place to hide. Where will I hide now?_ She thought of the little sept but Septon Chayle would be displeased at her for playing her games in the sept. She thought of the pantry in the kitchens but the cook would think she was merely after more lemon cakes…and perhaps he’d be right. She thought of the crypts and gave a shiver. She thought of the godswood next. Robb might not think to find her there but there was something about the Weirwood that made her nervous. Then, it came to her. _The stables…he_ _will never think to find me there_.

Sansa ran past the people of the castle that were busy with their daily tasks. She slipped past her father who was busy talking to Ser Roderick in the yard. If he noticed Winterfell’s red-haired daughter bolting into the stables, he did not say anything.

She entered and was overwhelmed by the smell of horse and manure. Sansa scrunched up her nose. The stable lads were busy mucking out the stalls but turned and made their obeisance to their lord’s eldest girl. She was only six and didn’t know why everyone, even men old enough to be her grandsire, did so but she had long since stopped worrying over that.

Hullen came over and asked if she wanted her pony saddled or needed something and she shook her head at him. She grinned and held up a finger to her lips. He smiled back at her and seemed to understand that a game was being played. He pointed to the ladder that led to the loft above the stalls.

Sansa grasped her skirts in one hand and cautiously began to climb. She felt the strain in the muscles of her legs and the arm that was not holding her skirt. She rarely played like this. It felt good in a way. She looked down and saw Hullen watching anxiously from below. _I can climb a ladder_ , she thought feeling a slight sting to her pride. _He does not need_ _to watch and fret so_. But as she looked back down at him, she realized how high she had climbed, nearly ten feet up at least. _It’s awfully high_ , the six-year-old thought. But pride would not let her call to Hullen that she was afraid or ask him to help her back down and up she went until she climbed through the little trap to the loft above.

She was panting a bit from her climb and sat down on the hay covered floor of the loft when she felt eyes on her. She whipped her head around and spotted her half-brother, Jon, sitting in the corner of the loft observing her. He had a blanket spread on the hay around him and he was holding a book.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her as she asked the same of him.

“I’m reading,” he answered.

“I’m hiding,” she replied simultaneously.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asked her just as she asked him, “Why are you reading here?”

They both laughed at their timing. It felt good to laugh with Jon. It’d been a while since they had played together. They did not talk so much now, not since Mother had started encouraging her to _not_ play with Jon. She loved him but he was her half-brother and for some reason that hurt Mother.

“I’m hiding from Robb.”

“Oh…” he said, clearly confused. “Why would you…”

“We were playing hide and seek. I kept losing and wanted to find a good place to hide.”

“This is a good place.”

“Why are you…”

“Theon,” he said. He didn’t have to say anymore. Sansa knew what an… _arse_ , she whispered in her mind…Theon could be.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Sorry for what she couldn’t say for certain. “May I hide up here with you?” she asked then.

He seemed surprised that she would ask him that. “Of course, Sansa. You are always…I would welcome your company.”

Except she didn’t quite believe him. Something about the way he said it made her think he’d prefer she go back down the ladder and leave him be.

“What are you reading?” she asked. He blushed and mumbled a response. “I didn’t hear you,” she prompted as she walked over and sat down next to him on his blanket.

“A story,” he said a bit louder and more clearly though he still seemed embarrassed.

Sansa giggled, “Of course you’re reading a story, silly. What story?”

“It’s about Prince Aemon, the Dragonknight.”

“Oh, a prince! I love stories about princes,” she exclaimed.

“Well, he was a prince but he was also Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for his brother who was king.”

“He was a prince but he was in the Kingsguard?” He nodded. “But Kingsguard can’t marry.”

“No, but it didn’t matter because he was in love with his brother’s wife, Queen Naerys…she was also his sister.” Sansa looked perfectly blank at that. Jon laughed and said, “I know, it sounds strange.”

“Read some to me,” she asked as she scooted closer to him.

He smiled and began to read. His voice was soothing and it was warm in the loft and soft on the blanket and hay. Her head began to nod and she let out a yawn. It had been a long day already but it was still hours till bedtime.

“Are you tired, little one?” he asked. He had not called her ‘little one’ in many moons now, maybe not even in a year or more.

She nodded and he opened his arms to her. Sansa giggled again and nestled into her brother’s arms. “You won’t let Robb find me, will you?” she sighed as she let her eyes flutter and close.

“No,” he said kissing the top of her head. “You can hide away with me for now. We won’t come out until Robb gives up.”


	3. Hard Cider on a Summer Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets drunk for the first time and he receives unexpected help.

“Try it,” Robb said. “Theon stole it from Barth a little while ago. It’s good.”

“Of course, he did,” Jon said sourly as he took the horn of hard cider from his brother. He took a gulp and sputtered which caused Robb to laugh heartily. “Piss on you, Stark,” Jon grumbled once he got his coughs back under control and could breathe normally again.

“Come on now, Snow. It was funny.”

Jon grinned at his brother despite himself and took a small sip of the potent cider this time. The boys were nearing their fourteenth nameday and Jon thought a bit of hard cider on the warm summer night in the godswood was a good way to spend an evening. _Father would never approve though_ , his conscience said uneasily. Father never let them have more than a single mug of ale at feasts and that was something still quite recent.

They were both laughing together after passing the horn to and fro until the amber liquid was all gone. Robb had spilled some on his breeches and for some reason that seemed quite humorous at present. They were both laughing and snorting at each other when Theon arrived with more cider in a flask.

“You both pissed then?” he asked with an amused look.

Theon was older. He drank as much ale as he pleased at feasts and he’d told Robb about going to the brothel in Wintertown and his favorite whore there. He didn’t tell Jon much though as Jon rarely wished to spend much time in his company. But tonight, Jon’s head felt a bit fuzzy and Theon’s company didn’t seem so bad.

“Maybe a bit,” Robb answered with another laugh.

Theon doled out more of Barth’s hard cider to the younger boys. _Men…we’re nearly men now_ , Jon thought. As the night wore on and the full moon rose, Jon found he was enjoying himself. Robb certainly was as well. He was laughing loudly at everything by now.

“Keep it down, Stark,” Theon admonished Robb. “Your Lady Mother would likely see me strung up by my balls if she learned I was getting her precious boy drunk out in the godswood on stolen cider. You should be fine, Snow. I don’t think Lady Stark would mind very much if you got drunk enough to fall down the well,” he finished with a cruel smirk.

Jon suddenly remembered how little he cared for Theon’s company and he rose unsteadily to his feet. “I’ll see you later, Robb,” he said stiffly as he tried to walk away without swaying too much, his pleasure in the evening extinguished at once like a candle that had been snuffed out in a breeze.

Jon left the godswood and heard laughter coming from the stables. He would’ve liked to climb up to the loft and sleep off the cider but he felt a bit uncertain of climbing the ladder and he didn’t want the stable lads laughing that the Bastard of Winterfell was drunk. And he didn’t want Hallen to tell Father either. _I’m nearly fourteen, nearly a man_ _grown. What difference would it make if Father knew I was drunk?_

Nonetheless, he avoided the stables.  He turned towards the keep and wondered if he could make it to his room without being noticed. His head was spinning now and he could feel his mutton from dinner churning unhappily with the hard cider in his belly. He passed Jory outside the great hall.

“Where’ve you been, Jon?” he asked.

“Outside with Robb,” Jon answered trying to seem perfectly sober.

Jory gave him a close look and sniffed. “Better head on to bed, lad. Lord Stark won’t like seeing you like this.”

Jon nodded and sped up on his way to his room. He was still quite far from his room when he heard a gasp, saw a flash of red hair and felt hands on his wrists.

“Jon!” she cried. “Where is Robb?”

Jon looked at his sister, Sansa… _half-sister_ , he reminded himself. She was eleven now and getting taller every day it seemed. Her lovely red locks were in twin braids and she had on her nightshift. They barely spoke to each other lately but he still loved her even if she only ever referred to him as her half-brother now.

“He’s…” Jon started to reply when there were voices heard approaching.

“Shhh!” Sansa said putting a finger to his lips. “Come here…hurry!” she hissed under her breath.

Jon blindly followed her. He let her lead him in truth. His head was hurting a bit and he was not master of himself at present anyway. She led him through a doorway to… _her chambers._

“Sansa…I shouldn’t be here,” he said looking anxiously around. “And what is going on?”

“Mother is looking for Robb and I know what Theon did. Barth was angry and told Father that Theon had pilfered some of his cider and now Robb is missing and Mother is looking for him,” she rattled off at lightning speed. She looked ready to start crying. “Father will punish Robb for getting drunk. I just know he will and I couldn’t bear it.” _She has a tender heart...at least when it comes to some of us._

“Were you trying to protect Robb? Trying to keep him out of trouble?” he asked. _Not that you’d try and protect me_.

“Of course, I was!”

For some reason, Jon felt angered then. “Well, what do you need me for?” he asked sullenly.

Sansa looked at him closely then and Jon wished he could take back his harsh words. _It’s only right that she’d wish to shield Robb. She loves Robb. I just wish she loved me as_ _well_. He felt her blue eyes studying him closely. _She’s only a child. I am nearly a man grown. I will not let her intimidate me._ But more and more, there were whispers of how she had Lady Stark’s look, that she was nearly a child-like replica of Lady Stark in fact. And, Jon wouldn’t admit it aloud but part of him was a bit intimidated by the child that regarded him so closely now with ice blue eyes as piercing as Lady Stark’s though not as cold.

“You were with them, weren’t you? I can smell it on you,” she said accusingly.

“So what if I was? I’m not your concern! And it was Robb that offered it to me before you start thinking that I induced him to drink!” He winced at all the pain and anger that came out in his voice then. _It doesn’t matter what she thinks, does it?_

“Jon…I don’t blame you. I just thought you’d be somewhere else instead of drinking with Theon. He’s such an…ass,” she finished in a whisper. He nearly laughed at the way she clapped her hand over her mouth when she used that word. _Such a little lady._ She smiled and took his hand and tugged him over to her bed. “Come and lie down. I’ll help you make it to your chambers later while the castle sleeps.”

“I don’t…this is not proper for me to be here,” he muttered feeling foolish for his harsh words now.

“You go to Arya’s chambers. Why are mine not proper?”

“They’re just…it’s different…it’s…we’re not…” She looked at him like he sounded ridiculous. He felt ridiculous in truth…and a bit sick now. “Sansa, I think I’m going to be sick,” he moaned then.

She shoved him towards the chamber pot by her bed and he barely managed to make it there. Several minutes later, he stood and wiped off his face. He apologized for coming to her chambers and getting sick in her chamber pot and being discourteous to her.

“It’s alright,” she whispered waving off his apologies and shame. “Do you feel any better?” He nodded and she said, “Come and lie down. You’ll be feeling better soon and this way Mother and Father won’t see you like this.”

Jon laid on her bed and felt her climb in behind him. He laid on his side facing away from her and had the strangest urge to cry now. Sansa started slowly stroking his hair while telling him it’d be alright and she’d make sure he didn’t get in trouble.

“Why do you care if I get in trouble?” he asked.

“Because I love you, of course. You’re my br...you’re Jon and I don’t want you to be in trouble either.”

“What about Robb?” he asked then, not managing to keep the tears back any longer.

“Robb will have to manage on his own tonight and, if he gets caught and whipped, that’s his fault for listening to Theon. At least I managed to help one of you,” she murmured as she continued running her fingers through his hair.

She kept whispering reassuring words of comfort and Jon felt his chest aching from it all. He soon started feeling sleepy but the feel of her fingers in his hair was bringing about other feelings…ones he did not wish to think on too much tonight. _You are my sister and I love you, too…even if we’ll never be as close as I’d like_.

“I have to go back to my chambers soon,” he said though he did not want to leave.

“Of course, you do…but not just yet. The summer night is short but there is time enough still to lie here with me.”


	4. In Hot Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three times Sansa joins Jon in one of the hot springs of the godswood.
> 
> Once as children, once as young adolescents and once as adults.

**One-**

Jon sank into the hot water and closed his eyes as his head went below the surface. There wasn’t anything to see in the murky pool anyway. He held his breath and counted to forty-two before he needed to rise back up and draw breath. When he did, he wiped his face and was surprised to find blue eyes staring at him from across the pool.

“What are you doing?” his sister asked.

“Nothing. Well…bathing, I suppose,” he answered.

“Does the water feel good?” she asked next.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Can I get in?”

“No, Sansa. That’s probably not a good idea. Where is your septa?” Jon asked looking around. She was only five. Father and Lady Stark wouldn’t like for her to be out here wandering alone.

“She fell asleep while I made my crown,” Sansa said with a grin while pointing up at the circlet of flowers sitting atop her plaited, red hair.

“That’s pretty,” Jon said to please her.

“Please, Jon. I want to bathe, too,” she said next.

He sighed, knowing he should tell her no but knowing that he wouldn’t. “Alright. Don’t get your dress dirty or your lady mother will probably have us both punished. And stay near the edge where it’s not as deep.”

She laughed and pulled off her dress and laid it on the nearby rock. She took off her shift next and slowly slid into the water wearing nothing but her smallclothes…just like him.

They were only children and there was no harm in that. All of Winterfell’s people enjoyed the heated springs of the godswood and men of all ranks bathed together there and the same was true of the women. And children played together in the waters as well. There was nothing wrong in this…and yet there was. _Lady Stark will be angry if she finds us_ _together here or if someone tells her of it_. Jon didn’t know why that was so but he knew it in his heart.

The water was up to her chin at the edge and she couldn’t swim so well yet. Jon would have to keep her safe. _It is my responsibility as her brother to keep her safe_. Sansa moved around the edge from the far side of the pool over towards him until she was by his side.

“It feels nice,” she said. “But the bottom feels…squishy.”

“Squishy?” he chuckled. She nodded and he said, “That’s just the mud.”

She wrinkled her little nose up at him and said, “I think I like my tub better.”

Jon smiled. Of course, Sansa would prefer her clean, copper tub filled with warm, fresh water beside the fireplace in her chambers to the murky waters of the godswood that smelled a bit of sulfur. He wondered if her maid scrubbed her back and washed her hair like a lady’s maid was supposed to do. _Probably_ , he decided to himself.

“Aye, I’ll bet your tub is very nice.”

She looked at him for a moment and then got a mischievous glint in her eye. “It is but there’s something I can do here that I mustn’t do there.”

“What are you up to, little one?” he asked right before she splashed him fully in the face.

He laughed and splashed her back eliciting a screech but he could tell she didn’t mind it. He started to chase her around the edge and she was giggling furiously as she tried to move away. She was not as fast as him and, in her haste, she slipped on a stone and went under for a moment. Jon lunged forward to pull her back up above the surface. She let out a frightened gasp and a louder screech this time and Jon held her in his arms and promised that she was alright. Sansa clung to him and thanked him for saving her. Of course, she probably could’ve managed to stand back up on her own but she had had quite a scare and she was only five. And, Jon had liked being told he had saved her and how she said he was like a knight rescuing his lady.

And that was how Lady Stark and the septa had found them.

Jon bowed his head at once to the Lady of Winterfell sensing her disapproval and anger.

“Sansa,” Lady Stark said, “get out at once.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She never said his name. She sometimes called him ‘boy’ or ‘you’ but usually never said anything directly to him if she could help it. But, that day he felt her eyes on him all the while that Sansa dressed beside the pool with her septa fussing over her.

Sansa could tell her mother was displeased and the poor girl was nearly in tears by the time her clothes were back on, no doubt soaking wet since she’d had nothing to dry off with. He saw her cast him an anxious and questioning glance before her mother put an arm around her shoulder and led her back to the keep.

When Jon got out of the water soon after, he saw Sansa’s little circlet of flowers. _She has likely forgotten it. She can always make another_.

Still, he carried it back to the keep with him. He sat in his chambers for a time looking at it. Jon knew that there were finer crowns of flowers but, as he held it in his hands and turned it this way and that, he thought it very well made to be the work of such a young girl. That night after dinner he went to her chambers to return it to her. She opened her door and he did not miss the way her eyes widened; first in delight and then in fear.

“Jon, what are you doing here?” she said as she looked past his shoulder. He hoped she’d not been in too much trouble with her mother.

“I brought you back your crown, my lady,” he said with a smile. He held up the flowers and he was pleased to see the way her eyes were bright with pleasure now.

“Thank you, my knight,” she whispered before she stood on her tiptoes and he leaned down slightly to allow her to kiss his cheek.

She bid him goodnight before she slipped back into her chambers. Jon wished she would’ve stayed and talked to him longer but Lady Stark would be coming to her chambers soon like she did every night so Jon headed off to his own.

 

* * *

**Two-**

 

Jon sank into the hot water to soothe his aching muscles. He had been distracted during training today and had taken more blows than normal. The king and much of his court were coming to Winterfell any day now and the castle was like a beehive turned upside down. It was a flurry of activity trying to prepare for their royal visitors. Jon was excited and curious to see the king, who Father spoke so highly of, and to see his knights.

And, Ghost was keeping him up much of the night which had made him slow in the yard today as well. He was a good pup and quiet but he was often restless in the night and he slept right by Jon’s side. At present, his new friend was watching him bathe with frank curiosity.

“Did you want to get in, Ghost?” Jon said in a teasing manner. The pup gave a small yelp and backed away from the water as if he’d understood him.

“I don’t think he wants to,” a female voice said from behind him.

Jon whipped his head around to see who it was. He was only in his smallclothes in the water. He relaxed when he saw it was just his sister, Sansa. Her direwolf, Lady, was at her side.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as the pups sniffed at each other before frolicking together in the leaves.

“Walking…thinking,” she answered in a serious tone. It did not seem a very Sansa-like thing to say. Not that she couldn’t walk and think but she was usually singing and she rarely walked alone. She seemed troubled as well.

“Are you unwell?” he asked

“No, I am perfectly fine,” she said. _Whatever troubled thoughts she has, she does not wish to share them…at least not with me_. “Does the water feel good?"

"Aye," he answered, a bit uncomfortable as she regarded him.  They did not speak to each other very often now.

"I was thinking of bathing here.”

Jon’s eyes widened in surprise. She never bathed in the godswood anymore to his knowledge. “Oh…well, I can leave if you like.”

“No, it’s alright. The pool is large. Would you just…turn around while I…” she said gesturing at her dress.

He nodded and quickly turned. She was eleven and he was fourteen. And, Jon worried that perhaps this was no longer appropriate. _It’s fine. She’s my sister_. Arya was always coming around when he and Robb were here and they never thought it unusual. But somehow, with Sansa, it seemed different and a bit wrong.

He heard the splash as she entered the water and slowly turned back towards her. Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot that she must have made before she climbed in but there were strands of her fiery tresses hanging down that she had missed. They were already wet and sticking to the long, white column of her neck. Her plain, white shift was wet and sticking to her as well. He could see the hint of her budding teats through the murky water. She smiled at him nervously with her blue eyes locked on his. He quickly looked away when he felt an unexpected stirring below the water line. _She is your sister. All those things they say of bastards must be true_.

“Jon?”

He cleared his throat before answering, “Yes?”

“What happened to their mother? The direwolves?”

“She…she died.”

“I know that. But how?”

“It wasn’t pleasant. Didn’t Bran tell you? Or Robb?”

“No, Robb wouldn’t and I can never catch Bran to ask him. He’s always off climbing or playing somewhere with his wolf.”

“Did he name him yet?”

“Not yet. So, will you tell me? I heard some of the men whispering. Jory and Ser Roderick seemed concerned about the way the she-wolf had died.”

Jon started to reply when they heard footsteps. Sansa’s eyes became wide as saucers and Jon knew his were as well. Father walked into the clearing by the pool and paused when he saw them both in the water together.

“What are…what brings you both here?” he asked mildly. He wasn’t angry but he did look troubled.

“Jon was here first, Father,” Sansa said at once. “I asked if I could join him in the pool.”

She was still an innocent girl but she must have known somehow that what they were doing might be wrong. _She’s taking the blame if Father is displeased_ , Jon realized as incredulous as it seemed.

“Alright then, Sansa. Ser Roderick was looking for you, son.”

“I’ll go at once, Father,” he said but cringed at the thought of getting out of the water with Sansa possibly watching. But Sansa demurely averted her eyes and Father walked on into the wood towards the Heart Tree.

“I’ll see you later,” Jon said as he threw on his clothes.

“Yes, I’ll see you later. Will you tell me what happened to Lady’s mother then?”

“Certainly,” he replied.

But the next day, King Robert Baratheon and his court would arrive and Jon wouldn’t speak to Sansa alone again for many years.

 

* * *

**Three-**

 

Jon sank into the warm water to forget for a time, to forget the troubles that awaited him as king. It was a title he didn’t care all that much for but it was his all the same and he was never one to shirk his duty.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember a time when he did not feel so weighed down by care.

“What are you doing here?” Sansa asked several minutes later, startling him from his childhood memories.

“I’m…what does it look like I’m doing?” he asked irritably. “Bathing,” he said more mildly then.  He was not really angry with her.

"Does the water feel good?"

"Aye, it does." 

She smiled and looked around. “May I join you then?”

“Sansa…that’s not…we shouldn’t.”

“‘We shouldn’t.’ You know, you say that quite a bit.”

“Well, we shouldn’t,” he said, irritated all over again that he felt as shame-faced as a maid when they spoke of it while she looked upon their secret so mildly.

“And yet we do,” she said smirking at him.

“Aye, we do,” he said as a smile crept across his face unbidden.

“Jon…do you regret me so much?” she asked as her smirk was replaced by uncertainty and hurt.

“No, I…Sansa, I only regret that it’s…what would they all think?” he asked at last not knowing what to say.  _I love you.  I only regret that it may wind up hurting you_.

“We could tell them the truth. We could tell them you’re my cousin instead of my brother.”

“We will have to eventually,” he agreed. “But will they believe?”

“Let me join you here at least.  No one is around and I've missed you,” she pleaded.

He sighed, knowing he should tell her no and knowing that he would agree to anything she asked of him. He nodded and she smiled at him in that way she had, the smile that only he saw. She removed her clothes, all of her clothes, and was soon beside him in the hot water. He pulled her close for a kiss.

“I've missed you, too," he said. "But, you know, someone always finds us here,” he chided as she returned his kiss and started touching him beneath the murky waters.

“Let them find us. I’m tired of feeling ashamed at the thoughts of being caught here with you.”


	5. Worry & Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Jon returns home to find his wife ill and injured and he recalls a time when she was very ill as a child.

Jon flew from the courtyard at the words that greeted his return. He took the stairs two at a time only to see the maester’s face, etched with concern, as he left their chambers. Jon paused for only a moment to draw breath and steel himself for what he might be told before swiftly striding down the corridor to the man.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “How is the queen?”

“Her Grace is very ill, Your Grace. The complaint in her chest has worsened and she says that she is cold, that the cold will not leave her.” The grey man continued with his tale. Jon bowed his head and listened until he could stand no more.

“I must see her.”

“Yes, Your Grace…but the fever is upon her now. She is insensible.”

Jon felt he could not breath, his chest was so tight with worry. He’d been away, seeing to matters at nearby holdfasts and preparing the North for the winter that was here and the war that was ahead of them all. He’d received a raven not long ago from Sansa. She had mentioned a passing ague and nothing more. Upon his return this morning, he was told by Brienne that she had been quite ill for the past fortnight. She’d stubbornly went off to see to some matter in the Wintertown a few days ago with only a squire in attendance. Upon her return, her horse had slipped on ice and thrown her. She’d sent the boy to get help as her leg was injured. The boy had grown confused in his panic over the queen’s injury and she’d nearly frozen to death by the time Brienne and the guards had found her in the snow.

There were whispers that the queen was dying and Jon had rushed to her chambers to prove them all wrong. She was a Stark, a direwolf, and the snows could not take her from him. ' _The winters are hard but the Starks endure_ ,' his father, or rather his uncle, would’ve said. A beautiful woman his wife was but she was a Stark all the same and far stronger than she looked.

Jon nodded and pushed past the maester into their chambers. Her maids sat by the fire whispering and casting anxious glances his way. “Please, leave us,” he commanded as he removed his cloak. The girls scurried from the room. He walked over to where she lay. There was a sheen of sweat on her brow but she was paler than she should be and she was shivering beneath the heap of furs.

He felt her head… _burning with fever_. He felt her arm… _icy cold_. Jon removed his clothes and climbed under the covers next to her. He held her but thought her shift was in the way. He was certain that the best way to warm her was flesh against flesh. He awkwardly tugged and pulled at her shift until he finally got it up and over her head. He cast it aside, all while she remained insensible. Then, he pulled her closely to his chest and covered them with the furs once more.

Sansa whimpered softly and grimaced. “Shush, my love. I’ve got you,” he said as soothingly as he could. He felt the lump rise in his throat. _I cannot lose her. Please gods…don’t take her from me._

 

* * *

 

 

“Mother is weeping,” Robb said to Jon as they sat alone in the maester’s tower working on their lessons.

“Why?” Jon asked, not sure that he really cared about Lady Stark’s tears so long as he was not in trouble over it.

“Sansa is very ill.”

That got his attention. Sansa was only two, their precious little sister. Lady Stark was round with child again and said to be due in the next moon but Sansa was still Winterfell’s baby for now.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jon asked his brother.

“I don’t know. Father said not to worry and told me to go back to my lessons for now.”

“If Father said…”

“Father was sad, too. He was not weeping but he was sad and worried, too,” Robb said determinedly. “I think he only wanted me to not worry.”

The next two days the castle was unnaturally quiet. Men did not shout in the yard. Maids did not giggle in the corridors. Robb and Jon played quietly to themselves. The maester had freed them from their lessons for the day as he was busy caring for the sick. Sansa was running a high fever and insensible and Lady Stark had fallen ill the night before last. Father was either with his Lady Wife or his daughter as much as possible but there were times his duties would pull him away for a short time.

Both boys felt the worry and strain sharply but one of the last things Lady Stark had said before she’d grown feverish was for Robb to be kept well clear of the sick rooms. He was the heir of Winterfell after all. Exposure could not be risked. But Robb worried just as Jon did.

“Do you think…could you see Sansa at least?” Jon knew Robb worried for his mother as well but he would not ask Jon to go and see her. Jon would be too afraid to do that. “I don’t want you to get ill…but could you just go and peek? They won’t let me near their chambers,” he finished miserably.

Jon had wanted to go to Sansa but he feared being sent away, being told he was not wanted. Sansa would not have said that. His little sister was dear and sweet though Lady Stark kept her close much of the time and Jon never felt welcomed by her.

There were whispers that the dear little one might not survive. _I will go and see her no matter what they say to me. She is my sister, too_.

“I’ll go,” Jon simply said to Robb.

Despite giving Robb his word, Jon was nervous about going for another reason. He feared that she might look frightening. He’d heard the sick sometimes looked shrunken and changed. He was only five and he didn’t know what to expect. He went to the Heart Tree to pray. _What if she dies? I don’t want her to die. Please, gods…don’t let her die_. While he was there, he plucked some flowers. Sansa liked flowers.

Afraid he was but he could be brave, too. He waited until night and crept to her chambers in his nightshirt. He opened the door and saw Old Nan snoring by the fire. Jon took that as a sign that perhaps he was in luck. Nan was never mean to him at least. He tiptoed to her bed. She looked so small under the covers…and she was shivering. He laid the flowers on the table near her bed.

“Sansa,” he whispered softly. “It’s me…Jon.” There was no response. Her little face was scrunched up in pain and she whimpered. “I hope you’ll be alright,” he said, thinking that he should go now before anyone saw him.

As he turned, he heard a soft sound and then she spoke, “Jon…” Her voice was weak and it worried him. He turned and saw her fever-bright eyes. “I’m cold,” she said.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him then but he wanted to hold his little sister and comfort her if he could. He climbed into the bed next to her. He felt her little fists clutching at his nightshirt. She held onto him as though he was the sun and she was a flower that longed for his light and warmth. He laid still and let her fidget and squirm against him until she was content. At last, she grew still and sighed.

They lay together for a long time. Sansa seemed to have sunk back into insensibility, her fever still raging but at least she was no longer shivering. Jon wondered if perhaps he should leave. He’d been fortunate not to be discovered thus far but he didn’t wish to press his luck. Lady Stark was ill but he doubted she’d be kept to her bed for long when her daughter was this ill. And he feared her anger. He was only five…and he had good reason to fear her. He started to rise but the little fists in his nightshirt clung more tightly. He looked down and saw her blue eyes staring at him.

“Did you bring me flowers?” she asked, pointing towards the small handful of wildflowers he had plucked that afternoon. They were looking at bit wilted and pitiful by now.

“I did, Little One,” he answered.

She smiled and thanked him prettily. “Will you tell me a story, Jon?” she asked next. Sansa loved stories…even at the age of two. Jon liked them, too. How could he ever say no to her request?

“Always. I will always tell you a story if you should like one.”

He fell asleep after the story. He woke with Nan peering at him with a gentle smile. She told him he’d best head on to his bed for the remainder of the night. He nodded and rose, looking down on his little sister who was sleeping more peacefully now…at least he hoped so.

 

Five days later, he lay abed shivering with chills and burning with fever. Old Nan sat by his bed and Father came to visit as often as he could. Robb was kept away. Lady Stark was better but she did not come. Jon would likely not have been sensible of her visit even if she had come. He seemed to drift in and out of uneasy slumber and wakefulness and he had strange dreams.

But the night his fever broke, he saw a small handful of flowers lying on the table by the bed. He asked Nan who had brought them and she said she didn’t know for certain as she had been napping some as he slept.

“But I have an idea of who might have picked them though she may have been forced to send them through someone else…your Lord Father perhaps,” she said with a wink.

He smiled to himself and hoped they were from Sansa.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke with her sleeping contentedly next to him. He kissed her brow and could’ve cried in his relief. Her fever had broken. She was warm and no longer shivering. Her tired blue eyes opened and she surveyed him for a long while before speaking.

“How long have you been back?”

“Not even a full day,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired and sore.”

“Your injured leg will heal, the maester said. At least the illness seems better.”

“Thank you, Jon.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“I realized you were beside me in the night. Thank you for caring for me.”

“You are my wife, Sansa. It’s my job to care for you. I’m just sorry there’re no flowers to bring you in winter.”

“I have something better than flowers now,” Sansa smiled and snuggled deep into the furs against him. “Hold me?” she asked. He nodded, pulling her closer. Her delicate hands fisted through his nightshirt and she sighed. “Will you tell me a story, too? Like you would when we were young?”

“Always.”


	6. Sansa's Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa flees to find her brother, Jon Snow. Will he know her with her hair dyed dark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I harbor the belief that Sansa will be the Girl in Grey so that's where this little drabble came from.

_“Dye it?” she asked tremulously._

_“A distinctive color,” he responded, running a hand up to grasp a strand and making her feel chilled with that touch. “Best to cover it for now.”_

_But my hair…Mother loved my hair, she thought. I won’t be Sansa Stark anymore. I must be Alayne Stone now, a bastard girl with dark brown hair._

 

* * *

 

 

The fire burned in the hearth and it was nearly time for bed. Robb and Jon were still up but Sansa had to go to bed earlier than them. She heard the door crack open and her maid made her curtsy to the Lady of Winterfell. No words were spoken and the maid departed. Sansa sat up straighter in her seat. _Like a proper lady_. Her lady mother took the brush and began to work it through the snarls in her daughter’s hair. The maid had bathed and washed the dirt from her skin since her ride but her hair remained a fright. Mother’s hands were gentle and though she sometimes had to pull and tug to untangle Sansa’s long locks rarely did it hurt.

Her mother murmured things as she brushed her hair. Sansa did not understand all the things that Mother said but she saw the loving way Mother looked at her when she looked back at her over her shoulder. She knew her mother loved her hair which made Sansa very proud. She liked her hair best of everything thing about herself. It took a lot of care to keep it nice but it would never be a burden to her. It was like her mother’s…though perhaps a few shades lighter. Everyone said she was a perfect little lady and would look just like Lady Catelyn Tully Stark when she was grown. She would be a great beauty. Sansa liked it when they said those things. She was only seven and everything she was taught told her how important it was for a lady to always act like a lady. _Just like Mother_. And of course, a lady should be beautiful if at all possible.

“Robb said you went riding with him today,” her mother said sweetly after a while.

“I did,” she chirped in a happy tone. “I rode with Robb first but then his horse caught a stone in its shoe and I rode with Jon.”

“Jon Snow?” her mother queried in a tone that sounded angry. The brush worked its way through Sansa’s hair more rapidly now. It hit a snag and Mother yanked roughly for a change. Sansa winced and her eyes started to tear. “Sorry, my love,” her mother said softly before continuing more carefully.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you certain?” his little sister asked with wide eyes as her remaining tears dried up.

“I am,” he said as solemnly as Father would. He held her small face in his hand and stooped to look her in the eye. “You are her trueborn daughter, the same as Sansa,” Jon said.

“But I don’t look like Sansa…or the others. I look like you,” Arya said.

“You look like a Stark. They look like Tullys, is all.”

Arya nodded and hugged him and then scampered off without a care. Jon heaved a sigh and returned to his brooding. He finished collecting the arrows and found a place to sit and sharpen his dagger. His eye caught movement, a flash of color in the grey yard. Sansa had walked out of the keep into the yard. They were less than ten feet apart. She smiled at him for a moment but then she touched her scalp with a self-conscious look and her smile died on her lips. She walked away towards where Father was talking with Ser Roderick and stood with her hands clasped together waiting for the men to acknowledge her like a dutiful child. Father never made his children wait for his attention long though and his hand came around her shoulders even before he was finished speaking with the knight.

Sansa was different than his other half-siblings. They were not as close as he was with Arya or Robb. Sometimes she was haughty but he did not doubt her love. And him and her were not as different beneath the surface as some others might believe.

He watched the summer sunshine playing in his sister’s hair. He liked the way it shimmered, the way the sunlight reflected off her auburn tresses and set them on fire. She looked like a Tully, just like Lady Stark. He looked like Father, like a Stark. But those things were only on the surface. It did not matter to Jon. She was his kin and he loved her.

 

* * *

 

She’d not dyed her hair for over a moon. The voyage from the Vale and the journey across the North had been arduous in Winter. Would he know her at all? It had been so long since they’d last laid eyes on each other. She was just a girl when they’d left Winterfell and parted on the Kings Road. She’d been too caught up in her daydreams to be aware when the carriage turned South that her brother Jon would’ve turned North then. He likely didn’t think on parting from her too much then either. Arya was his favorite sister and there was Father to bid farewell. He was just barely on the cusp of manhood when he left for the Watch.

Just a hint of the copper fire was starting to show through near her scalp. _My hair…will he know me when my hair is this dark hue? Will he see Sansa Stark or assume I am an imposter? I will convince him in time. I must. There is nowhere left to go._

She had fled Baelish and the Vale after the…unpleasantness there. Alayne Stone was no longer a maid. _I am not Alayne. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell and I am seeking my_ _brother, Jon Snow_. She told herself that every day of her travels to keep up her courage and keep going ever onward towards him.

The tales they told of Jon were hard to believe. Returned from the dead. A great warrior. A warg. A deserter. A wildling. Betrayed by his own men. She only believed the best of him. No matter what Mother had felt towards him, Sansa loved him. He was her kin. He was Winterfell. He was home. He was a Stark whether he bore that name or not. He’d had Father’s look as a boy. Would he look even more like him as a man?

She arrived at his encampment at last, her horse nearly dead from fatigue. She clutched her grey cloak tightly around her shoulders and begged the men there for an audience with the Lord Commander of their army. She would not speak her true name yet. She hoped he would be willing to meet with a bastard girl from the Vale.

She sat where they had left her by his fire and nearly frozen to the bone. She heard the whistling wind from outside as the tent flap opened. She saw Ghost first…and then a ghost. Ghost was huge. She could barely believe her eyes. He walked right up to her and sniffed her. She was not afraid though perhaps she should’ve been. He whined and nuzzled her hand before a barked command sent him to lie down nearby.

The ghost of her father stood still, watching her with wide eyes. He’d barely entered the tent before he’d come to a halt. His face betrayed…shock. _He won’t know me but I will_ _convince him. And a lady must always remember her courtesies_ , she told herself.

“My lord,” she began as she rose to curtsy to him. “Forgive me…”

“Sansa,” he rasped, his voice deeper than it had been. The voice of a man grown and weathered by years of fighting.

“You know me?” she asked as her eyes began to water. He strode forward at the sound of her voice, his eyes sweeping from her head to her feet and back again before settling on her eyes.

“I know you,” he breathed as he took her into his arms and embraced her tightly, the first truly loving embrace she’d had in so long.

“But my hair…”

“Is lovely,” he said, cupping her face in his hands, “but there’s more to you than that and my heart knows yours as surely as I know those blue eyes of yours.”


End file.
